-Yeah yeah yeah, baby!
The crowd went wild. The lights, the drugs, the music pumping though the masses. The concert was the best they ever did. The press was there. TV. This would be their great breakthrough.
Jaime Jetpack’s blurry vision made the whole place vibrate. The walls came back and forth, the crowd made strange multidimensional waves. He hardly ever remembered his concerts, but this was ridiculous.
Some chick was taking her shirt off, exposing her tits. He liked that. Tits were good, hopefully she’d look him up later.
The music stopped. Cheers, wild screams and applause. Jaime stood quiet, absorbing the moment, and working a bit on staying on his feet while the hall was swaying in a delightful way.
-Thank you! Thank you, you’re a great audience, he said after a while. -This one one is for the girl with the white shirt in her hand.
The next song started with some soft guitar tunes to progressively harden.
He looked back at Merry Mark behind the drums. He was on fire, better than ever. Guitar Garth was doing the solo, pulling those strings as if he loved them. And Bert, he followed as if they were one.
The scenery spun.
I’m a rock star, and you’re my babe, the letters went. This was the life. All the hard work was paid for by this moment, this moment was all he had ever needed.
The drums went wild. The guitar riff soothed his soul. He screamed like there was no tomorrow. This was the best moment in his life…
He felt a shooting pain through his left arm. It was hard to breath. He needed air. He gasped. Panicked, before a strange, comfortable calm sunk into his body. He looked up, up towards the lights above. Something was hovering in the air. Someone.
-R-Rummy Ron…? Jaime stuttered.
He couldn’t believe it. The biggest star of all times was floating in the air in front of him. The crowd was further and further away, the drums, the guitar was just a soft, quiet background.
-You did it, Rummy said. -You made it. Your record will sell more than you ever dreamed of. You got them, Jaime! You got them!
Jaime stood with his mouth open. Rummy Ron, the rock star who inspired him to start singing, to learn the guitar. The star for whom he cried when died, the man who would always be the greatest of all. Now he was there, back from the dead to see his concert, to congratulate him for his success.
-To bad you’re not going to stick around to see it, though. It ends here.
-E-ends…? What do you mean, ends? I’m not ready to…
-Sorry to say, Jaime. Ready has nothing to do with it. You’re dead.
Jimmy floated over the crowd, looking down. The music had stopped. Guitar Garth was sitting over him, trying CPR.
-Garth could probably use some CPR himself at this point, Jaime sighed. – I guess it is over… Let’s go then.
-Anyway, where are we going, Mr Rummy?
-Nowhere, Jaime. We’re going nowhere.
Then they walked on, fading away with their conception of reality into nothingness and death.